


Love and Monsters in Paradise

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fake Marriage, Reader-Insert, Succubus, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25455007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Dean and Y/n pretend to be married to investigate several missing men at a Florida resort.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~You’re just jealous I get to hang out with Y/n in Florida while your sick self stays at the bunker and rests.”“You’re not ‘hanging out’. You’re finding out what’s taking th-the men,” Sam says, weakly.“See? Need you, Y/n.” Dean gestures at his brother, who looks weaker with each passing day. The Trials are taking it out of him. "Gotta have someone smart and pretty riding shotgun or I don't know what to do with myself." He takes a drink of coffee and smiles at me as my cheeks get hot. He called me 'pretty'. "And if we get to slurp some gratis champagne and dip our toes in an infinity pool while people call us Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, then that’s just a very awesome cherry on top.”He winks at me and I look away. No one’s going to believe he married me. Nine years his junior, more than a little bit fat, nothing even close to the women I’ve seen him pick up in bars and nothing close to what that man deserves in a wife. No one’s gonna believe it...unless I pretend to be an heiress or something.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 101





	Love and Monsters in Paradise

**Story Warnings: 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!** , somnophilia, slight **noncon** , monster-induced lust, self-esteem issues, oral (male and fem rec), protected sex.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean?” I ask, blinking at the Winchesters. I’ve known them for about two years and the closest we’ve come to ‘undercover’ work is pretending to be Feds with rock star names. “Undercover?”

“Yep. Couples resort in Key Largo, men goin’ missing; three in the last month. You an’ me, we’re going undercover as newlyweds, figure out what the hell’s goin’ on,” Dean says.

I shake my head. That’s not gonna work. No one would believe he’s married to me. “That’s not gonna work,” I say quietly.

“Course it is. I’m only, like, ten years older than you and I look good enough to bag a younger wife. It’s gonna work. Also, ya know, Key Largo all-inclusive resort. We’ll make it work,” Dean says, standing and walking over the coffee maker.

“You’re not going on vacation, Dean. It’s a job,” Sam grumbles from behind his laptop.

“You’re just jealous I get to hang out with Y/n in Florida while your sick self stays at the bunker and _rests_.”

“You’re not ‘hanging out’. You’re finding out what’s taking th-the men,” Sam says, weakly.

“See? Need you, Y/n.” Dean gestures at his brother, who looks weaker with each passing day. The Trials are taking it out of him. "Gotta have someone smart and pretty riding shotgun or I don't know what to do with myself." He takes a drink of coffee and smiles at me as my cheeks get hot. He called me 'pretty'. "And if we get to slurp some gratis champagne and dip our toes in an infinity pool while people call us Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, then that’s just a very awesome cherry on top.”

He winks at me and I look away. No one’s going to believe _he_ married _me_. Nine years his junior, more than a little bit fat, nothing even close to the women I’ve seen him pick up in bars and nothing close to what that man deserves in a wife. No one’s gonna believe it...unless I pretend to be an heiress or something.

“So, what’s my cover gonna be?” I ask as we drive out of the bunker. Drive to the Keys from Kansas. I'll never get over Dean being afraid to fly.

"What do you mean? It's Y/n Simmons, new bride of Dean Simmons."

"But, like, am I rich, come from a good family, was it an arranged marriage?"

"Oh, what, you want the meet cute?" he asks and I'm surprised he knows that term. "Yeah, I guess we should get that story straight since we're probably gonna be asked when we get there. Hmmm.” He hums as he taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “Oh, how about this? Your hat blew away in the wind at the park and I helped you get it back.”

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“Okay, how ‘bout you were at the mall tryin’ on clothes and you walked out of the dressing room to ask your friend how you looked in this bangin’ dress and your friend wasn’t there, I was.” How many rom-coms does Dean watch when no one’s around? “ _Or_ we were both at a bakery and reached for the same donut?”

“That one sounds believable.” Fat chick...donuts...makes sense. “So, how, uh...how do you want to...how’d we get together, then? I mean, that’s how we met, but-”

“I was my typical charming self and asked you to brunch. Mimosas and fancy omelets.”

I laugh. “Which of us got the donut, though?”

“We shared it,” he answers with a smile.

“Such a gentleman,” I joke.

"You know it." He smiles and reaches out to turn the radio up a little. As we drive, we make up little anecdotes about our ‘relationship’ and the wedding, coming up with an entire story of a relationship that would never happen in a million years. But it’s nice to dream. “Hey, you packed a swimsuit, right?”

“Uh...no?” I squeak out. “I don’t _own_ one.”

“We’ll stop at a shop when we hit the Sunshine State and get’cha one. Can’t get in those infinity pools in jeans and flannel.”

“I wasn’t planning t--Dean, we’re not going to Juanhar Beach Resort to go swimming.”

“We’re going to pretend to be married, on our honeymoon. The only way we’re gonna get away with not enjoying the pool is if we spend our whole trip in the suite enjoying each other...which would make it really hard to do the job, ya know?” I gawk at him for a few moments, simultaneously in awe at the idea of us ‘enjoying each other’ and terrified of him seeing me in a swimsuit. Maybe a tankini with a cover-up...or one of those old-timey, ‘show no skin’ ones. Wrap myself head to toe in- “Earth to Y/n!” he snaps me out of my self-deprecating daydream. “I brought blue trunks so you should get, like, a blue bikini to match.”

He does not want to see me in a bikini.

We stop at a mall just over the state line of Florida and find an Avenue to get a blue v-neck one-piece and a black cover-up. Dean also picks up a cheap bridal set and slips them on our left fingers. And then we start driving again...and I’m nervous as fuck. This is not gonna work.

A valet and a bellboy run out to the Impala when we pull into the resort. “No, no, no valets,” he groans.

“Come on, husband. Don’t ruin our honeymoon. I’m sure they’ll take really good care of your baby,” I say as I get out of the passenger side and pull open the back to get the suitcases and hand them to the bellhop.

He chuckles as he gets out and reluctantly hands the keys to the valet. “You’re my baby now, baby.” I look away and shake my head at his cheesy answer. This is not gonna work. I can feel people staring at us as we walk through the lobby. Fuck. This is gonna fail. Dean wraps his arm around me as we approach the desk and I have to force myself to act like that move doesn’t shock me to my core. This isn’t gonna work. “Reservation for Simmons.”

“Ah! Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, we’ve been waiting for you! We’re happy to have you. We’ve got a beachfront suite for you, private plunge pool, jacuzzi tub, all food and drink included. We’re excited to give you the perfect honeymoon experience.”

“We’re happy to be here, aren’t we, honey?” Dean says, leaning down to kiss my cheek. I almost gasp, but I hold it in.

“Yep. Been looking forward to the honeymoon more than we were the wedding!” I exclaim happily, putting on the newlywed show and wrapping my arm around his waist...thinner than I imagined under all those layers. Oh, god, those freaking hips.

“We’re really hopin’ to get to the room as soon as possible, ya know? Been drivin’ a while. We’re, uh, _tired_ , if you get my drift,” Dean says, winking at the receptionist. My cheeks heat up as his ‘drift’ puts an image in my head.

The receptionist laughs. “I get you, sir. Let’s go ahead and get you to your suite. Our bellhop will take you where you need to go.”

The bellhop from before shows up and smiles at us, leading us out of the lobby toward the beach. I am fighting to ignore the way he smells in the salty beach air. He’s still holding me and he smells good and I smell like a two-day road trip. God, we need to just get this job done and get back to their stupid bunker and pretend this didn’t happen.

“Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, this is Francesca. She’s one of our masseuses, available to do deep-tissue massages, facials, and area specific massages,” the bellhop says, gesturing to a tall, tanned, dark-haired, gorgeous woman coming down from one of the other suites. She’s got huge breasts and brilliant brown eyes. Dean's eyes sweep over her as she sets her folded table on the ground and leans it against her legs, offering her hand to him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I hope to give _you_ a bit of pleasure on your honeymoon," she says, in a bit of a Cuban accent. She's hitting on him. Of course she is.

“Wow. Strong hands,” Dean compliments as he shakes her hand.

“Well, I work with them every day...and most nights,” she says, and I roll my eyes.

“I’m very tired, can we get to the suite, please?” I snap.

Dean drops her hand and we continue toward the suite. “Sorry, hon. No massage from the hot masseuse.”

“We have several masseurs, too, if you’d prefer,” Bellboy says.

“Yeah, I’d rather go without than have a dude rubbin’ on me,” Dean says, dropping his hand to my ass. "But maybe my wife will give me a rubdown."

I look up at him, eyes wide. I look away before Bellboy can see my shock. Dean’s just playing the part. But does ‘the part’ require him to dig his fingers into the meat of my buttcheek? By the time we get to the suite, I’m tingling between my thighs. I hand Bellboy a folded twenty and he leaves us to ourselves. Dean walks around the room as I grab my bag from by the door and set it on the desk, opening it and pulling out the clothes. “I’m gonna call Sam.”

“ _The shower is outside!_ ” Dean calls from the bathroom. “How fuckin’ cool is that?” He’s smiling like a fool when he walks back in. That fucking smile. “You ever showered outdoors?”

“It’s blocked off so people can’t see, right?” I ask, nervous at the thought of being exposed like that. I pull out my laptop and phone and set them on the desk next to my clothes, leaving my knives and gun in the suitcase.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, walking over and wrapping his arms around me, dropping his chin to the top of my head. “What do you say we take a shower, then we get our suits on and take a dip in that plunge pool out there?” He points at the small pool outside on the patio.

“What, uh, what does that...um...how’s that gonna find the monster?” I stutter out.

“We got days to find the monster. I wanna get you in that pool, Y/n.” His hands slide down my sides and I gasp.

“Dean,” I whisper, pulling away from him. “There’s no one around. You don’t have to keep up with that shit. I’m gonna call and check up on your brother.” I grab my phone and walk out onto the patio, dialing Sam’s cell phone as I go.

“Hey. You guys make it to the Keys?” Sam asks when the call connects.

“Yeah. We made it. Dean’s, uh...already enjoying himself,” I say, looking over my shoulder as Dean flops backward on the bed. “But I guess I can’t begrudge him a bit of relaxation. It’s been a hard few years.”

“Y-yeah, but don’t forget that you’re there for more than tropical drinks and sunsets. There’re men missing.”

“I know.” I sigh. “We’re here to work, but there’s no reason why he can’t have a beer by the pool, right?”

“Hey, they got cocktail hour at 6!” Dean shouts.

I sigh again. “We’ll get it going. Promise.”

"Call me if you need anything, research-wise."

I nod. I'll only call if I really need him. He needs to rest just as much as Dean does. “Get some sleep, Sam. We’ll call you if we need you.”

“Yeah.”

He hangs up and I turn back to the older brother. He’s lounging on the bed with a menu in his hand. He looks so comfortable and sexy. Shit. Why do I like him so much when I know he’s never going to look at me? Probably thinks I’m a kid...a fat, ugly, little sister or something. “So, how you wanna do the sleeping arrangements?” I ask, walking in and closing the French balcony doors and moving to place my clothes in the dresser.

“Uh...bed?” he suggests, smoothing down the comforter beside his body. “It _is_ our honeymoon, babe.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll take the couch.”

He sits up and looks over at me, a bit of anger in his eyes. “No. We’re supposed to be married, sweetheart. If someone breaks into this room to do whatever to me that’s been done to the other men, they’re gonna know something’s off if we’re not sleeping in the bed together. So, just come sit your sweet ass down and look at this menu with me. What’s prosecco?”

I push the dresser drawer closed and walk over to sit next to him on the bed. “It’s like Italian Champagne, I think.”

“Oh, awesome. See, I promised you bubbly shit, didn’t I?” he says, before he starts pointing out all included food and drink. It actually looks really fucking good after two days of fast food and convenience store fare.

We shower and head to cocktail hour at the restaurant. There’s canapes and cocktails and people congratulating us and my cheeks are burning the entire time because his hand rarely strays from my hip and oh, god, _this_ is why I can’t get rid of this crush. The way he smells, the way he sounds, the way he looks, the way his fingers dig in just in the right way. This is so unfair.

But...at least it seems like people really do believe that we’re a couple, probably because Dean keeps touching me, kissing my cheek and jaw, all these affectionate little touches and I’m kinda losing my shit over it. He’s _really_ good at undercover.

When we get back to the suite, we get dressed in sleep clothes and settle into bed. “Wanna consummate the marriage?” he jokes as we pull the blanket up.

“Go to sleep, Winchester.”

I turn over onto my side and fall asleep. I wake up halfway through the night. Dean’s arm is wrapped around my waist, spooning me from behind. I gasp when I feel him pull me closer, my back against his chest, my ass against his...hard on. My mouth says “Oh my god” even though my voice doesn’t follow through. That is...big and very hard against my butt. Oh and then he starts rubbing against me and heat rushes between my legs.

“Wake up, Winchester.” I slap his arm to get him to wake up, but it takes a few minutes before he groans and starts to wake.

He pulls his arm back and rolls the other way. “Sorry ‘bout that. I was havin’ an _amazing_ dream.”

“Yeah, well, just...stay on your side of the bed.” Don’t want him feeling awkward in the morning.

And he doesn’t seem to feel awkward when we wake in the morning. That’s good. We go to breakfast, we get itineraries on the guys who went missing from the resort then we head to the suite and I look over the information garnered while Dean does something on his laptop...hopefully research of his own. The sun is starting to go down when Dean begs me to get our bathing suits on so that we can get into that little plunge pool he’s been talking about since before we got here. He’s already in the pool by the time I feel comfortable enough to leave the room in that swimsuit.

He’s shirtless. Of course he is, but...Don’t drool. I avert my eyes and slip off the cover-up before I drop into the water.

“What’s with that thing? The robe thing?” he asks.

I look over at the cover-up and shrug. “I’m just not comfortable being seen in a bathing suit.” He purses his lips like he doesn’t understand, then shrugs and picks up a glass of prosecco, handing it over to me. “So, I looked over the itineraries. There was a lot of overlap which makes sense because, ya know, all-inclusive.”

“Hey, can we just relax? Drink your bubbles.”

I roll my eyes, but take a drink of the prosecco. It’s sweet and bubbly and it hits me a lot faster than the whiskey I usually drink when I’m trying to keep up with Dean. I stumble as I leave the pool, can’t get my cover back on, I barely make it out of that stupid bathing suit and into my tank top and sleep shorts. Dean comments about me being a lightweight, but I don’t have the energy to argue it so I just get changed and get in bed. No prosecco tomorrow if I want to figure out this job.

I’m not exactly sure what wakes me. I was out, not even dreaming, but now I’m waking up...and I’m horny? My pussy is tingling, clit pulsing, walls clenching around-

My eyes fly open and I look down. The blanket and sheet are gone, bunched at the foot of the bed, which gives me a perfect view of Dean between my thighs, happily licking at my womanhood with two fingers buried in me. “What?!”

He looks up, licking his lips and curling his fingers and making me gasp. “I’m sorry. I know this is a total invasion, but...I just...I was havin’ this _amazing_ dream and I woke up and…” He reaches up with his free hand and grabs my boob. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d taste, how tight you’d be...I couldn’t-” He doesn’t even finish his sentence before his lips are wrapped around my clit.

This is a witch. This is a spell or a hex. Sex hex. Fuck, he’s really good at this. “D-Dean, can you-can you stop? We need to talk, so can you-”

He looks up at me again, confusion in those bright green eyes. “No,” he says simply before going back to work. My eyes roll back as he works his fingers into my walls, his calloused fingertips finding my g-spot and making me cry out. This is so bad and so good at the same time. I’m never gonna be able to work with him again...but I’ll be able to take this memory with me when I go.

Fuck, he’s practically vibrating those fingers against my g-spot and I don’t want to cum because then it’ll be over, but I just can’t keep myself from cumming all over those perfect fingers. I let out a broken moan, my toes curling as he hums happily.

He leans back, sitting on his heels as he licks his fingers, sucking them between his plump lips. My eyes drop to his sweatpants, the large bulge in the front. I squeeze my thighs together and sit up. “Dean. We gotta talk...now…” My words waver as his tongue snakes between his fingers. I look away and take a deep breath. “We gotta look around for hex bags.”

“Hex bags? Why would we do that?”

I pull my shirt down to cover my belly and look around for my shorts and underwear. “Because you’ve got some mojo working on you, Dean, and the most likely candidate is a witch.” My clothes are on the floor. I lean over and pick them up. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

“But...but I wanted...Y/n...you’re not gonna return the favor?” he asks as I slam the door behind me in my haste. I’d love to return the favor, but I can’t. This is a horrible situation.

“Dean, will you slide my phone under the door, please?” I shout.

“Baby, just come out and talk to me. Didn’t you wanna talk?”

“Right now, I wanna talk to Sam.” I can hear him sigh heavily, but eventually my phone slips under the door. “Thank you!” I dial Sam’s number. It’s three in the morning there, but I know Sam’ll answer.

“Everything okay?”

“No. No, it’s not okay. Dean’s been hit with a whammy. I think...a witch maybe. It’s a...it’s lust-based.” I sit on the edge of the tub and sigh.

“ _Lust_ -based?”

“Yeah. He’s...he’s been acting weird and, uh, he…” My cheeks get really hot at the memory. “He’s been acting really weird and it’s lust-based, okay? That’s...I can’t go into it, but it’s...we’re gonna look for hex bags, will you look into other things that it might be?”

“Yeah. Gimme a few hours. I’ll call when I figure something out.”

“Thanks, Sam.” I hang up, get my clothes on, and wrap myself in one of the thick cotton robes hanging by the door. “Dean, I’m coming out so we can talk, okay?”

“That’d be nice. Been sitting out here waiting for you while you talk to my brother.” I roll my eyes and open the door, walking out to see him sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s still got a bulge in his sweats, but it’s going away. “You’re mad at me,” he says.

“I’m not mad, Dean.”

“Yeah, you are, ‘cause I didn’t ask first and I ran straight to third base without even touching first and second.”

“No, Dean.” I shake my head. “But that _is_ why I know that something’s wrong. You never would have touched me if you weren’t being affected by something.”

He rolls his eyes. “There’s nothing affecting me but your sexy body, Y/n. Come on. Let’s just go back to bed and-”

“No. Let’s look around the suite and if we don’t find anything, then we can go back to bed...and _sleep_.”

“Fine,” he grumbles.

We don't find a hex bag. We don't find any sign of anything. When we get back in bed a few hours later, I put a pillow between us, which he gets angry about.

"How's he been sleeping?" Sam asks when he calls me a few hours later.

"Um...he mentioned having awesome dreams the last two nights. Why? Is that important?"

"I think you're dealing with a succubus. Massively heightened libido paired with intense sexual dreams usually points to succubi or incubi. The lore says a succubus will visit nightly for a while, drain a man’s life force until he becomes something less than human...so...animalistic, probably soulless. I’m assuming the succubus is hitting the men hard for a few nights, just long enough to Pied Piper them out of the resort to wherever she can finish draining them.”

A succubus. That makes sense. “So...What’s the lore on ganking the bitch?”

“Silver knife, blessed with holy oil, in her heart."

"Okay. Thanks, Sam. Now, I just gotta figure out who she is."

"It could be any female that touched him after you got to the resort."

The hot masseuse!

"I think I know who she is. Thanks." I hang up the phone and walk out of the bathroom.

Dean is sitting up on the bed. He turns to look at me. "Hey. Sorry 'bout last night, Y/n. I didn't mean to-"

"Francesca is a succubus. She pumped you full of horny chemicals last night. You didn't know what you were doing. I'm gonna call for a massage and when she gets here, we'll test her and then gank her. Go get the holy oil out of the trunk."

"After we're done putting her down, can we enjoy the pool? I really liked hangin’ in the water with you yesterday.”

I shake my head. “After we’re done putting her down, you won’t feel that way. Just go get the oil, please.” I walk over to the phone on the desk and pick it up, dialing the front desk. “Hi, I was wondering if I could get that massage therapist, Francesca, to come give my husband a full-body, deep tissue massage. Today, if possible.”

“Of course! Six o’clock work okay?”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

Now just gotta get her dead and move on. I’m watching from the balcony as she sets up her table to give Dean a massage. But Dean’s not there. I sent him to get drinks. “Francesca, right?” I ask, stepping in.

“Yes, hello!” she says with a smile. “I am going to be giving your husband a massage, right?”

“Maybe,” I say, smiling. “Can I just see something real quick? My husband says you have strong hands.”

“Oh, yes. It’s an important thing, strong hands to work the muscles.”

“Right. Can I see your hand?” I ask. She puts her hand out palm up and I grab it to look over the pristine skin as I pull out an old iron hinge I pried off the gardener’s shed. I drop it dead in the middle of her palm. It immediately sizzles and burns, she screams as she drops it to the floor and I smile. “Lot of monsters have trouble with iron.”

She hisses at me as she moves backward. “You! Should have known you were hunters! Man like that with a round little chunk like you.”

“Oh, that hurts coming from a bitch like you who has to come at men in their sleep and steal them away from their women.”

“Oh, they like it, sweetheart. Every single one of them chose to leave their wives to come with me and take what I have to give. Your partner would have done the same.”

Dean’s behind her suddenly, holding her back by her arms. “Wrong, bitch. Every dream you gave me ended with me rubbin’ one out to Y/n,” he growls in her ear and my pussy clenches at the tone of his voice. It won’t last. It’ll be over as soon as I plunge this knife into her heart.

She screeches as she dies, electric sparks of energy going out across her body and lighting up her eyes. I resist the urge to spit on her corpse as Dean leans down and picks her body up. “You gonna get rid of her?” I ask and he nods, walking out with her. I rub my hand down my face and sigh before I pull out my phone to call Sam. “You were right. Succubus. She’s dead. We’ll be heading back soon. Thanks for all your help. Get some more rest.”

I’ve packed my suitcase and moved on to Dean’s by the time he comes back. “Burned and buried,” he says, stopping in the doorway. “What are you doin’?”

“Packing. We’re done. She’s dead. Job’s over.”

“Can’t we stay one more night? I mean, she’s not gonna suck me dry in my sleep, the cops aren’t gonna come askin’ about her before tomorrow.” He walks up and tilts his head, looking down at me. “We never took that shower...and I never got to round the bases the right way.”

I roll my eyes. “That shit’ll wear off soon, don’t worry.”

“What shit?” he asks, looking back to the massage table. “She’s dead, Y/n. She’s _been_ dead. Any mojo or whammy she put on me is-”

“Still working its way out of your system and we should go before you remember that you wouldn’t touch me with a ten foot pole.”

He scoffs. “I’ve been flirting with you for _years_ , Y/n. Are you being serious right now?”

“You flirt, Dean, that’s what you do,” I say turning back to throw his jeans into his suitcase. “I’ve never been stupid enough to think you might actually want anything to do with a woman who looks like-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he snaps and he sounds almost angry. Angry enough for me to look up at him. “A woman who looks like what? You’re gorgeous. I’ve wanted something to do with you since Sam walked into our motel room with you straggling behind him and that’s only gotten worse as I watched you hunt and fight and...I can’t wait to see how that passion translates into fucking and I was hoping this trip would bring us closer and I’m not gonna let you push me away just because you think the damn monster triggered something that’s been going on since before I went to Purgatory!”

He can’t mean- “You can’t mean what you’re saying.”

He almost growls as he reaches out and grabs my head, smashing his lips into mine. He almost immediately moves into licking into my mouth as I grab at his arms to ground myself. “First base,” he says, grabbing my shirt and pulling it over my head. I gasp as he pulls the cups of my bra down and leans down to suck my nipple into his mouth while he gropes the other breast. Shit, this isn’t happening. This isn’t- “Second base.” He pushes me backward onto the bed and tucks his fingers into the waistband of my jeans and pulls them down. “Stop me if you don’t want me to round the bases, Y/n, because I’m about to slide into Third.”

The idea of him stopping is the worst idea I've ever heard. "Please don't stop." He smiles at me, kisses me again and nips at my bottom lip before kissing his way down my body. I reach under my body and unclip my bra as he nibbled at my inner thigh. He pulls my panties to the side and starts licking and sucking at me. "Dean! Oh, fuck!"

I roll my hips against his fingers as soon as he slips them into me. The orgasm he gave me last night is fresh in my mind and I’m more than a little eager for him to give me another. “You gonna return the favor this time, Y/n?” he asks before nipping at my clit.

Fuck, the idea of using my mouth on any part of him is magical. “Please,” I beg. He chuckles and continues licking and sucking at me. He’s so good. He’s so fucking good. “Oh my _god_! You’re so fucking good, you’re so-” I cry out as he sucks hard on my clit and twists his fingers against my g-spot. How does he find it so fuckin’ easy?

I grab at the comforter as he makes my toes curl, his mouth and fingers taking me higher than I have been in years because this time I can let go. This time I know he wants me. This time there's no reason to not.

When he pulls back, it's just long enough to pull his shirt off. I kick my pants and underwear off and lean up, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss. He tastes like me and it’s so fucking amazing. I grab at his belt and yank him closer to me as I get the buckle open. “Someone’s eager,” he says amused.

“Says the man who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” I drop to my knees next to the bed and tug his jeans and boxers down. His dick bounces out and I gasp. It’s huge and thick and beautiful and I’m drooling before I even get it in my mouth.

“Shit,” he whispers as I start licking at the head of his dick, rolling my tongue along the crown. “Yeah, baby, just like that.” The sounds he’s making as I hollow my cheeks and suck him down hard, I can’t believe this is really happening. I can’t believe I’ve got his dick in my mouth, his heartbeat pulsing on my tongue. “Shit, shit, shit, ya gotta stop.”

I pull back from him and lick my lips as he tucks his hands under my arms and pulls me up to lay me back on the bed. “Did you bring condoms?” I ask breathlessly.

“Of _course_ I did.” He turns and unzips the front pocket of his suitcase, pulling out a condom. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this without one.” He pulls it open with his teeth and slips it on, laying over my body and kissing me again. "You're fuckin' gorgeous, ya know?"

I shake my head. "I don't know that. No one tells me that."

"I'll tell you," he says with a wink. He kisses me again as he reaches between our bodies and starts rubbing his dick against my clit. "You ready?"

“Please,” I whisper and he rubs it down to my pussy, slowly pushing into me. It’s almost painful. He’s thicker than any guy I’ve been with and he’s long and I can’t...I grab his shoulders and throw my head back. He starts rocking to get further into me and it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans into my ear. “Why’d I know you’d be so fuckin’ good?”

I’ve never had anyone talk about me like this. Definitely not while _inside_ me. He can’t seriously be...this can’t be real. He cannot be real.

But it is real. It’s real that he’s kissing my neck and collarbone, rocking into me slowly and grabbing at my thighs and hips and ass, growling into my ear about how I feel so amazing and look so good and I didn’t know sex could be like this. I didn’t know it could make my soul feel good on top of my body feeling good.

No, not just ‘good’, amazing. I’ve never had a man touch me like this. I’ve never felt so...sexy and sexual and worthy.

“Yeah, baby, clench just like that. _Fuck_. Hey, flip over for me. Hands and knees.” I do as he says and he moves behind me, running his big hands down my spine to caress my ass. “Jesus. Look at you. These soft fuckin’ hips, big ass.”

“You _like_ a fat ass?” I can’t help myself.

“Sir Mix-a-Lot is not the only one who likes buns, hun.”

I look over my shoulder at him and frown slightly. “Mix-a-Lot was talking about Kardashian buns, not these.”

“Shut up. No one likes Kardashians.” He grabs my ass hard and I gasp. “Wanna see this ass bounce.” His cock nudges back into me and we both moan. He reaches under me and grabs my breasts. “Gotta love more than a handful.”

He starts snapping his hips, his cock hitting all the right places while his hips slam into my ass. I get close fast, but I hang on the edge of orgasm. He drops his hands to the mattress and kisses my shoulder as he starts going harder. “I’m almost there. I’m close. You gonna cum for me, gorgeous?” His right hand finds my clit and I fall over almost immediately and I practically scream. He groans and his breath catches as he slams his cock into me forcefully, cock twitching as he cums into the latex. He fucks me through our orgasms and kisses my neck.

I drop to the bed and flip over, watching him as he cleans himself up. That was...holy shit. “Wow,” I whisper.

“Home run, by the way,” he says, chuckling as he flops down next to me.

“Yes, it was,” I say laughing.

He leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek. "I've been thinking about doing that for years. Next time a man flirts with you, don't dismiss it so quick, woman."

I look at him for a minute then sigh and look away. "I've had a schoolgirl crush on you since the moment I saw you, Dean. I just...I really didn't think you were the type to go for a fat chick. Guy that looks like you-"

"I like hot chicks. Hotness isn't dependent on your dress size.” He leans over me and looks directly into my eyes. “Hot is when you hip checked that werewolf and threw him across the shack. Hot was that perfect headshot you got in on that shifter. Hot was the way you told Sam he was an ‘absolute imbecile’ for retiring while I was in Purgatory and not backing down when he got in your face about it. You’re hot, Y/n. Don’t ever forget that.”

I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. “You might have to remind me every once in a while.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss me again. “I think I could do that. Now, why don’t we get a nap in before we get the fuck out of here?”

I smile and nod as he pulls me against his chest. “God bless South Florida.”


End file.
